Ember-roasted Artichokes
by dreamflower02
Summary: At Cormallen, Merry makes an unexpected and delightful culinary discovery. (Written in 2010 for the Waymeet genre challenge. My genre was culinary, and my words were: artichoke, earthenware, garlic, hourglass, and meadow.) One-shot, first person, book-verse.


(Written in 2010 for the Waymeet genre challenge.)

**Author: **Dreamflower  
**Title: **Ember-Roasted Artichokes  
**Challenge: **Genre challenge (My genre was "culinary")  
**Rating: **G  
**Characters: **The Fellowship, a couple of OCs  
**Words: **4,253  
**Summary: **In Cormallen, Merry makes an unexpected and delightful culinary discovery.  
**Author's Notes: **My genre was culinary, and my words were: artichoke, earthenware, garlic, hourglass, and meadow. I am _aware_ that I have a botanical improbability here. I will explain further in my End Notes*!

**Ember-Roasted Artichokes**

_12 Astron, T.A. 3019, S.R. 1419_

Since I have finished the accounts that Éomer King set for me, and as I know he will not allow me to return to the tent where my cousins and Sam await until they waken from their naps, I shall take some time to write down my small doings of yesterday. I am not nearly so fretful as I was before I saw all three of them up and about four days ago, still my king and Strider say we will all rest better if I do not spend all of my time at their sides.

Yesterday, Strider asked one of the Rangers of Ithilien, a Man by the name of Findegil, to do some foraging for some of the more common healing herbs that the healers are beginning to run short of. Éomer asked if I would accompany him, and perhaps do some foraging myself for some foodstuffs that would be useful. It is rather early spring to find much besides greens, but I agreed. It would be a far more agreeable task to be out in the sunshine and clean air than sitting in a tent copying lists of horses or mending harness or polishing the same armour I have been polishing over and over.

The Field of Cormallen is in a wide meadow. There are a few copses of trees about, such as the one where Frodo and Sam were taken to awaken the other day, but there is not much else growing there now after days of an encampment, and Men and horses tromping about. Once we are gone, it will soon spring back to life, however.

I followed Findegil south and east, past the edges of the encampment to where a wide stream ran back to the Anduin River. I was surprised to see what pretty country there was in that direction since it ran towards the Black Land; looking east, I could see a series of rills and waterfalls in the distance. The country was hilly and well wooded, though not densely wooded. It reminded me somewhat of the Green Hills area of the Tooklands, though it was a wilder, shaggier land. I took a deep breath, and suddenly a wave of homesickness overtook me. Yet it passed quickly with the joyful realization that not only would _I_ be going home; we _all_ would, something I had not been altogether sure of just a week past.

I heard Findegil behind me also take a deep breath. " 'Tis wonderful to breathe the clean air of Ithilien, and to see blue sky to the East, where only a few weeks past were only foul smokes and darkness, is it not, Sir Meriadoc?"

I gave a start. I am not all that used to my new title. "Please, just call me 'Merry'!" I said.

The Man blushed and smiled. "The Ringbearers are your cousins, are they not...Merry?"

I chuckled. "Frodo is my first cousin once removed as well as my second, also once removed, on the Brandybuck side; he's also my third cousin on the Took side of the family. But so far as I know, I'm no relation at all to Sam." I gave a sly look at the Man- it was fun to see their reactions to statements like that. He blinked, but to give him credit, he showed no other sign of astonishment. "Sam's a very dear friend, though," I added.

Findegil smiled. "I had the good fortune to see them when they came into the keeping of Captain Faramir on their journey. Your cousin was very quiet, with good reason as now I know, though we all guessed wrongly as to the object of their journey. Samwise, however, was a very droll fellow."

I grinned at this, imagining Sam's blush when I passed the description on to him.

We began to walk once more, now keeping our eyes open for the signs of the herbs and other things we had hoped to search for. "I have to say, Findegil, I am surprised at this whole country-" I waved an arm about to indicate what I meant. "it seems strange to see such a place so close..." my voice dropped off. It's still hard to say Mordor out loud, though writing it down does not seem so hard.

"Ithilien was once called the 'garden of Gondor'. All of this country was once a province of farms and villages. It's why we shall have good fortune in our foraging, for many of the plants of field and garden grew wild and multiplied when the farms were abandoned after the Enemy returned."

"I remember Sam telling me just yesterday what luck he had finding greens and potherbs when he made a coney stew hereabouts..." I darted over just then to a patch of sorrel and added a goodly supply to my foraging bag. I noticed that Findegil had found some rue, borage, and pennyroyal, so I left those to him. I cast my eyes for more. Wild carrots I spotted, and remembering what Sam had said, I pulled one, but the root was woody and too mature for good eating. I saw some mushrooms, but close examination showed me they were poisonous, so I left them alone. I suppose my disappointment must have been obvious, for Findegil came to my side and said, "You will find no wholesome mushrooms hereabouts, sadly enough."

Near a tumble of rocks, covered in stonecrop, which Findegil gathered, as stonecrop is good for staunching bleeding, I spotted some wild onions and wild garlic, and added some to my bag. Findegil gave an exclamation, and turned away, "This was probably once a farmhouse. Let us go see what might have been left in its fields." He seemed anxious to hurry away, though I was not altogether convinced we had found all there was to find there.

I left him to silence for a few minutes, and then asked him what the matter was. At first he did not answer, but finally he said, "There were bones there, Merry. I did not think you needed to see them."

"Oh." He didn't need to say more. I remember what the orcs had done in Rohan to many of the farms and villages of the Westfold.

We found a number of other useful plants. I had found enough greens for quite a large salad, but as I had suspected, it was too early for berries and such, though I did see a patch of strawberries still in bloom, with a few green berries. Some even had a pinkish tinge to them. I made note of their location. Assuming we were still here in a week or so, I'd return. Imagine Frodo's delight if I could present him with some fresh strawberries!

Indeed, a number of edible plants could be seen hither and yon, but few were of harvestable size yet. I did find more herbs: sprigs of thyme, rosemary, and bay were added to my bag. I was sure that the cooks in the mess tent would be happy to see them.

"Sir- I mean, Merry! Look!" Findegil was pointing excitedly at a plant that looked to me like nothing so much as an overgrown thistle.

I strode over and looked at the plant. "What is it?" I asked, curious as to what could have excited my companion so.

He looked at me, surprised. "Do they not have artichokes in your land?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I have never heard of them," I answered. "Are they edible?" I reached up to touch one of the thick thornlike scales that covered the fruit.

"They are, indeed! They are considered quite a delicacy, though there is much work involved in eating them," he laughed as he spoke.

"What did you say they were called?"

"Artichokes. You see, the tastiest part of it is hidden within the heart of it. And it is covered with a fur like substance that would choke a person; 'heart of choke' is what I have always been told. Only a small part of the whole thing is edible, though." He looked about, seeing two other similar plants in our vicinity. "There are not enough here to feed many, but I daresay it would make a fine treat for the Ringbearers and young Sir Peregrin, as well as for yourself."

The idea pleased me, but I pursed my lips. "It seems scarcely fair for the hobbits to have a treat that others cannot share."

"Merry, none would grudge such a thing to you all! I am sure everyone would be pleased for all four of you to indulge in such a thing. If you are concerned, you can ask the King or Mithrandir, but I am sure they too would be pleased. It would be good to have something special for them, especially for Lord Frodo." He began to cut the strange fruits from their stalk. "What fortune!" he exclaimed, as he looked at the other plants. "It appears that there are eight of them- enough for all the company of walkers!"

This pleased me well. I knew that Frodo would feel better about the treat if we could share at least some of it with others.

There were a few more small ones lower down on the stalks. Findegil harvested them as well, to my surprise.

"Won't they grow larger if you leave them?"

He shook his head. "No, and these are more tender within. While there is not enough meat on these for any one person, the cooks can use them as an ingredient in other things, I am sure."

We took our bounty and returned to the encampment. Findegil reported to the King of our finds. He was pleased both with the healing herbs and the artichokes.

"Merry, will you deliver them, as well as the cooking herbs, to the cooks?"

I nodded, and hurried off with my bundle.

Master Pellas, the chief cook, was quite pleased to see the various herbs. "They will add a bit of flavour to the plain rations we are yet forced to work with. Though I know that some of the soldiers have gone to try their hands at hunting and fishing to supplement our stores. Although," he sighed, "there is not likely to be a lot of game where orcs have been for so long."

I asked him about the artichokes, wondering would he mind preparing them for our company that evening?

"Indeed, Merry," for I had early on insisted he _not_ call me "Sir Meriadoc", "In the city, I would boil them in an earthenware pot. They must never be cooked in an iron pot, for it turns them an unappetizing colour. But here I will roast them in the embers of the cooking fire."

"May I watch?" I asked. It would be most interesting to see how these odd vegetables were prepared.

He was only too happy to allow me to observe. First he cut off a goodly portion of the top, where the spiky leaves were. He also trimmed the stem. Once he had done that, he rinsed them and carefully spread the leaves apart. He inserted slivers of the wild garlic, and some of the thyme and other herbs we had found in between some of the leaves. Then he sprinkled salt, and poured some oil of olives- a substance in much use in the South- over them. After he had prepared the first one, I was able to assist him in preparing the others.

He took a long shovel, and created a deep trench near the hottest part of the large open air cooking fire, that was kept burning night and day in the heart of our encampment. He would not allow me to help in placing them into the trench- that task involved using a long pair of iron tongs taller than I am, so I could scarcely have handled them safely. He was very careful to avoid spilling the oil he had poured on them. Though I stood well back, the fire was very hot, and I could feel my face growing red.

"There," said Pellas, "they should be done in a little over a quarter of an hour. When their colour has dulled they will be ready. We should prepare a dipping sauce for them."

"What kind of sauce?" I asked.

"There are a number of them," he said. "The most common is melted butter with the juice of lemons stirred in. But I am afraid both butter and lemon are in short supply here. I shall infuse some oil with garlic and herbs, and stir in a little wine vinegar. We have that in abundance."

I nodded. Vinegar and oil are an excellent way to dress greens and other vegetables.

When I came to the tent we hobbits shared, Strider was there. He'd only just turned the hourglass he had put on the small table by the tent's entrance so that Pippin would know when he was due another pain draught. It disturbed me to still see some of the bruises he yet carried, though they were yellow and fading, and the lines of pain that furrowed his brow. I knew his knee, especially, still pained him dreadfully. And yet he was recovering well; many of the Men who had been less injured than he had yet to rise from their cots.

Frodo and Sam still looked far too gaunt. I knew it would take more than a few days for them to recover the weight they'd lost in their dreadful trek. But Sam, at least, was recovering his colour, and the dark circles beneath Frodo's eyes were not as bad as they had been when he wakened. His poor hand was still partially bandaged, however.

"Have you told them yet of the treat we are all to share?" I asked Strider.

He smiled and nodded. "I am looking forward to it myself," he said. "I have not enjoyed artichokes for many years."

"He told us it was a giant thistle, Mr. Merry!" Sam said incredulously.

I nodded. "That's exactly what it is, Sam. I would not have believed it if I had not seen it myself!"

Frodo smiled, and I was pleased to see the curiosity in his eyes. When he smiled, he looked almost like his old self. "I am eager to see these odd vegetables myself. But I wish you could have found some mushrooms," he added wistfully.

I sighed. It would have been delightful to treat my dear cousin to some mushrooms. "The only ones I could find were unwholesome. I don't wish to poison you!"

He laughed. "No, I don't think you do, Merry! And I'm not so eager to have mushrooms that I'd eat any doubtful ones."

Just then Gandalf entered, followed by Legolas and Gimli. I realized that all eight of us had not been together at the same time since the night of the feast when Frodo and Sam first wakened. Those of us who were sound had many duties to keep us busy, and the invalids still spent much of their time resting, though they did often take short strolls in the early mornings.

Gandalf went over to check on Frodo and Sam, and then sat down next to Frodo's cot. Legolas sat down next to Pippin, and Gimli perched himself at the foot of Sam's cot.

Strider and I busied ourselves arranging things so that all of us could take our meal together comfortably. The tent was somewhat crowded with all of us there, but not unpleasantly so. We had scarcely had time to converse among ourselves when Master Pellas arrived with three undercooks, and our meal.

One of the undercooks brought the soup and flatbread that was the mainstay of most meals in Cormallen; but the other two bore a large plank with the cooked artichokes and the dishes of warm, flavored oil for dipping. With a bow, Master Pellas presented Strider with a bottle. "A gift from the Prince of Dol Amroth, who said it was only fitting that the saviours of Gondor have something special to wash down their special meal."

I could tell by the bottle that it was a pale rosy wine, and we hobbits exchanged a grin. While I must admit, I am quite fond of a good beer, the wine here in the South was much more palatable than the watered down ale we had usually been served.

The cooks bowed and excused themselves, and we were left to contemplate the meal, which had set my mouth to watering. The pavilion was redolent with the aroma of garlic and herbs.

Gimli eyed the artichokes on their plank dubiously, and Sam looked at me and said, "You are right, Mr. Merry! They do look more like giant thistles than anything else. And you say that they are supposed to be right good?"

Pippin was sniffing blissfully. "They _smell_ wonderful!"

Frodo nodded. "They do, don't they?" He wore a look of anticipation, and I so hoped he would like them.

Legolas reached out and touched one of them. "But how are we to eat such a thing?"

"They are a messy affair," said Gandalf, "best that we leave them to last. They are still very hot!"

"Yes," said Aragorn, as he dished up some of the soup. "And we can take all the time we need to savour them!"

We made short work of the soup and bread, though I was pleased to note that Master Pellas had made use of some of the wild thyme and other herbs I had brought him. It tasted far better than it usually did.

Gimli scraped the last of his soup with the last of his flatbread, and eyed the strange new vegetables arrayed in front of us. "Now what?" he asked.

In answer, Gandalf leaned forward to the artichoke in front of him, and with thumb and finger, plucked one of the spiny leaves. The dark dull green of the leaf faded to a pale buttery colour below. He dipped the lower part of the leaf into the dipping sauce, and then brought up between his teeth and scraped off the pale part. Then he discarded the rest of the leaf into his empty bowl. He reached for another, and Strider began to do the same with his. Pippin watched for a moment and was not far behind. I watched his eyes widen in delighted surprise, and then watched Sam and Legolas enjoy theirs. Much as I wished to taste of these treats myself, I did not want to miss the reactions of the others. Gimli was the last to try, and he grinned and used his sleeve to wipe away the oil from his beard. Satisfied that the others would enjoy my find, I reached for my first taste.

It was fun to scrape off the tiny edible portion, buttery in texture and very slightly bland in flavour—I understood at once why it was tastier with something to dip it in. But it was quite delicious. The garlic and herbs lent it all the extra flavour it needed, and it was unexpectedly creamy in the mouth. I reached at once for another leaf. We ate in blissful silence, and the piles of discarded leaves filled up our bowls. Frodo was not much hampered by eating with his left hand only, until we neared the heart of the fruit at its base. Pippin's was the first of the chokes to be displayed. It was covered in a fuzzy purplish substance, and for once he was at a loss when confronted with food. He looked at Strider. "What do I do now?" he asked.

"Use your eating knife to scrape away the covering, and trim off the hard base at the bottom. Then you can eat it."

We watched as Pippin followed the directions, scraping away until all that was left was the pale knob of the heart. He dipped it into the sauce and bit into it, just a tiny bite. He closed his eyes and gave a little hum of satisfaction. "I think that _this_ is as good as mushrooms!" he declared.

Soon all of us had reached the hearts of our artichokes. Sam assisted Frodo to scrape his, as that would have been very difficult to do one-handed. I had to agree with Pippin as I ate mine, that it was every bit as good as many mushrooms, though not quite so flavourful as my favourites.

It was amusing to note that though Pippin had been the first to start on the heart of his choke, he was the last to finish, taking his time, and sometimes just dipping it into the sauce and licking it off without a bite. He'd always been one who loved to play with his food as much as to eat it, and this food was perfect for that.

"I have to say, Merry," Frodo said, when he had finally finished his, "this is a most remarkable discovery! I wonder who would ever have thought to try eating one of these, though? They are so formidable looking!"

Everyone laughed, and Sam said, "I wonder would these grow in the Shire?"

"Master Elrond had a very few plants in the garden at Rivendell," Strider said. "They took a good deal of pampering even in the mildest of winters. But once established they bore year after year, though never very prolifically."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose I could give it a try. Mayhap I could cover them over in the winter, like asparagus."

"It would certainly be worth a try, even if we only ever grew enough for one such feast as this," said Frodo thoughtfully. I was delighted to see the look of determination spring up on Sam's face, and I knew that he'd see to it that he grew some of them for Frodo, no matter how much work it was.

We talked for a while, discussing some of the things that had been going on in the camp, and hearing the latest news from Faramir in the City, when Strider gave an exclamation! "The sand has run out, Pippin, and I never noticed. It is time for your draught, and for you, Sam and Frodo to retire."

Pippin made a face, but did not otherwise complain, as he drank down the unpleasant draught.

The Big Folk left, though I could tell they had only gone so far as just outside. I helped Pippin into his bed, and then turned to tuck up Frodo and Sam. I'd been doing that since they first wakened. It made Sam blush furiously, and he would always object, but I did it anyway. It was fun to watch him turn red.

Frodo suffered my attentions with a sly murmur of "Thank you, sprout." That made _me_ blush, as it was a reminder of my childhood when Frodo had always tucked _me_ in. And I wasn't going to object to his using my baby-name. He was alive, and he could call me any names he wanted. I turned to make sure Pip was covered, and dropped a kiss on his forehead. He was already sleepy from the draught. "I'll be back in a few minutes, Pip."

"Wish _I_ could have a smoke and a sniff of air," he muttered. But he was already asleep by the time I went outside to join Gandalf, Strider and Gimli for a brief evening pipe. Legolas had left to "go check on Arod", his usual excuse to get away from the scent of pipeweed. Our supply of leaf from Isengard was low, so we kept it quick. Better a short smoke once in a while than no smoke at all.

I soon left the others and went back into the tent. I checked on Frodo and Sam, and then on Pippin. I was tempted to crawl in beside him, but I had promised Strider that I would take my rest in my own cot—he thought I did not sleep soundly enough when I was by Pippin, since I feared to hurt him if I moved in my sleep.

I felt quite pleased with myself. Often I had felt I did not contribute enough to the efforts that had been made during and after the War, but last night I felt as though I had accomplished something with my foraging, and especially in finding a new and unusual food that everyone had enjoyed. I hoped that I could find more of those, and perhaps some other new and exotic food that my cousins and Sam could enjoy. And I did not forget the location of those strawberries…a week? Ten days? I would check on them often—it would not do for the birds to get at them before I could.

Good heavens! I have been writing for quite a while! I am sure that the others are awake by this time. Sure enough, the King's cousin Éothain pokes his head into the tent. "Holdwine! Are you still here? The Ringbearer was asking after you just a few moments ago!"

I slip down from my cushioned chair and roll up the pages I have been writing upon. I know that Éomer King will not begrudge me them, and I would like to have these notes to refer to. I am certain that I will once more have the chance to prepare artichokes sometime.

***End Notes**

I had the bunny for this story at once when I received my prompt words. However in researching it, I discovered it was unlikely that artichokes would be at the harvestible stage that early in the year. Since the bunny would not go away, and Merry insisted his encounter with the strange veggie took place at Cormallen, I can only conclude that this was a strain peculiar to Ithilien, one which was ready to eat far earlier than other sorts.

Also, the explanation for the name "artichokes" is a bit of false folk etymology; the name actually comes from the Arabic. But I thought the popular myth would be suitable for Middle-earth.

The recipe I used here is one that I must confess I have never personally tried. (I _have_ cooked and eaten artichokes in the conventional manner.) It came from an excellent book called _The Magic of Fire: Hearth Cooking, One Hundred Recipes for the Fireplace and Campfire_ by William Rubel. It is filled with delightful information about cooking with real fire, and is a marvelous resource for anyone who writes fic set in a time and place when cooking would have been done with woodfire.


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